Then Shall the Voice of Liberty Be Mute?
by emrie
Summary: UPDATED. Twenty years old and living at Yale, Rory Gilmore felt lost. Now she's met a man who could change her life forever. Only problem is, making him a part of her life is a daunting undertaking. L/L subplot.
1. Default Chapter

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore's life was never been complicated. At least not until Toby Levy walked into her life. Charismatic and startlingly compelling, he and his ideals would change her life forever.  
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: The titles are all from e.e. cummings' poems. This takes place two years in the future, Rory's second year at Yale, and was written given my current frustration with Rory's love life on the show. I wanted to find her a new guy, one that wasn't like any of the others we've seen. Visualize Toby as looking like Adrien Brody. :) Everything from Yale is used fictionally, and may not always being completely accurate.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe. Except for Toby. He's mine.  
  


*  
**sweet small clumsy feet of April came into the ragged meadow of my soul**  
  
*  


  
It was later than she'd thought.   
  
Rory Gilmore squinted a second time at her watch as she made her way down the steps of the Sterling Memorial Library. Daylight savings time was throwing her off. She could have sworn it was only six or so, given how light the sky was. Instead it was already a quarter past seven. Sighing, she shifted her pile of books from one arm to the other. The evening had escaped her once again.  
  
The night was warm, half lit in the twilight of early spring. In the distance a lawn mower buzzed; newly shorn clumps of grass lay along the edges of the path. A few small groups of students were making their way cross-campus from the dining hall, but it was deserted enough that she was able to walk alone with her thoughts.   
  
Glancing enviously at a group of underclassmen playing frisbee on the lawn, Rory wished once again that she didn't have a ton of reading for her Human Societies class the next morning. It was her own fault for taking a class that met early Friday morning, but she often wished she could relax on Thursday evenings like most of her friends.  
  
She lifted her face to the damp air and breathed in deeply. Spring was nice. She wondered what flowers Babette had decided to plant this year, and made a mental note to ask her mom the next time they spoke. Every year Babette picked one type of flower and planted it everywhere, paying no attention to aesthetic landscaping. Rory smiled absently, remembering the year Babette had decided on sunflowers: they had grown so tall she'd gotten lost whenever she had gone out to water the garden.  
  
Hey, Rory, wait up! The friendly voice startled her from her reverie. She turned and squinted into the setting sun. The setting sun was at the girl's back, throwing her into silhouette, but given the cloud of curly hair Rory knew it had to be Judith Quinn, her roommate from freshman year. They were still friends, though they saw one another rarely now. Most of Judith's classes were in the math department.  
  
Hey, how are you? Rory shifted her books to one side as Judith fell into step beside her.  
  
I'm great! Judith skipped as she said the word. She'd always been relatively hyperactive. What are you up to?  
  
Research for my sociology class. Rory held up one of the books she was carrying.  
  
Judith grabbed the book from her and pretended to almost drop it because of the weight. God, how heavy is this?  
  
It's less then five hundred pages, Rory protested.  
  
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies, Judith read aloud, then added dryly. Sounds fun.  
  
Rory took the book back. It is. At Judith's doubtful look, she assured her,   
  
Maybe for you. You like reading crazy novels and stuff. If I had to read that, I'd die. Since day one Judith had never been able to stomach reading something more than a trig textbook. Rory still wasn't sure how she'd made it through her English requirements.  
  
She decided to change the subject from her appetite for books, a topic which always made her self-conscious. Where are you going right now?  
  
Voice of Liberty meeting. Judith caught Rory's arm suddenly. Hey, you should come with me!  
  
Rory was embarrassed to admit that she'd never heard of the organization but tried to cover. Yeah, I've always wondered: what do you guys do?  
  
Um...we work on political causes, local and national. And we train people to be activists. It's awesome! Judith turned around and started walking backwards, facing Rory. Tell me if I'm going to walk into something, okay? She checked over her shoulder, then turned back. So...how about it? Wanna come?  
  
I don't know, Rory stalled. I'm not really that political.  
  
Everyone's political, Judith insisted.  
  
My mom and I weren't really into that, Rory admitted sheepishly. We never talked about politics that much.  
  
Judith stopped walking abruptly. Okay, no offense, Rory, cause I love you and I love your mom, but there are real issues out there! She flung out her arm dramatically as she said it, and the frisbee guys stopped playing to stare. Issues more real than where to find a good cup of coffee! Rory glanced away, embarrassed and a little stung. She could always count on Judith to tell her the truth, even if it hurt.  
  
Judith's face softened. I'm sorry. She touched Rory's arm and they started walking again. I always do that. I didn't mean to imply that you never think about anything important, but it's never too late to start taking in interest in something beyond your daily life. She smiled. Come on, come to this meeting with me? Just for a little while?   
  
Rory sighed. As Judith grabbed her arm and started hurrying her towards a nearby building she tried to amend her concession, I _can't_ stay that long, though. I've got so much reading to do.  
  
Sure, whatever you want. Judith waved her off, leading her down a flight of stairs into a basement lounge that was crowded with people. Rory was relieved to see that everyone was still milling about, chatting; she would've hated to enter with the meeting already in session. Someone stuffed a flier into her hand, but before she had a chance to thank the person Judith had pulled her towards an empty spot on a worn blue sofa. They squeezed into a space between a girl Rory recognized from her Ethics class the previous semester and a guy with blond dreadlocks.  
  
Judith immediately started chatting with the girl, they were obviously friends, and Rory took the time to let her gaze sweep the room. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. With the exception of the dreadlocks guy and one woman with blue hair, everyone was pretty average looking. It looked like a group of young adults she might find in any one of her classes. She looked down at the flier in her hand. It contained information about the annual Tolerance Parade that was that weekend. She folded it in half and slipped it between the pages of one of her books.  
  
At the front of the room a young man straightened from a slouch against the wall, his face expectant as he stood at the front of the room. Rory sat up, sure that the meeting was starting. Yet no one aside from her was paying attention, conversations continued undeterred. The man saw Rory watching him and shot her a lopsided grin, shrugging as if to say Oh well. What can you do?   
  
Rory looked away, embarrassed, only to find her attention drawn back to him a moment later. He was tall and gangly, with angular features and a large nose that was strangely attractive despite itself. Worried that he would notice her staring again, she dropped her gaze to his t-shirt, sage green with the statement: _Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed individuals can change the world, indeed it's the only thing that ever has_. She liked the statement, and liked him by extension.  
  
He was trying to get the group's attention. A little louder. His voice was light and gentle, tinged with mild humor. Rory sensed none of the impatience she had thought he must be feeling. Maybe he was used to this.   
  
The room quieted slowly, conversations reluctantly dying out. He watched with a small smile until he had everyone's attention. Okay, I think we're all here, so let's get started. He settled comfortably onto the arm of the couch behind him, bracing himself with his long legs on either side. Rory noticed that his beat-up converse sneakers looked as though he'd walked cross-country in them.  
  
He cleared his throat. I called this meeting because I've gotten word from a friend of mine that the health centers on campus are planning to stop prescribing the morning after pill. Completely. The administration claims... He raised his voice slightly over the murmur that swept through the room. ...they _claim_ that they feel, given the supposed controversy of the pill, that they would rather avoid dealing with it completely.  
  
But it's not even an abortion tactic! the girl beside Judith protested. It's a high dose of hormones that suppress ovulation—just like birth control pills!  
  
She's right, someone else added. Rory couldn't see who was speaking. It's hypocritical to take away much needed health care just because they're afraid of bad publicity.  
  
A guy sitting cross-legged on the floor spoke up. Okay, I'm not pointing fingers, but some people _do_ use the morning after pill as a form of irresponsible birth control. And that sucks.  
  
The man at the front leaned back, scratching his eyebrow. I agree, Matt. Totally good point. But my source says that's not the reason. Apparently some of the major benefactors for the college are big believers in the abstinence movement. They've threatened to pull funding if the college continues to dispense the morning after pill. They probably wanted to get rid of all birth control, but compromised. He allowed for a moment of silence before asking the question, My question is: what do we want to do about it?  
  
The answers ranged from doing nothing to burning down the health centers. Rory sincerely hoped the person who had suggested that had been kidding, but given the fierce energy in the room she wasn't quite sure. As the debate raged she found herself rooted in place despite her best intentions of leaving. She'd never been faced with such an abundance of strong political opinions before, especially not from kids her own age. At some times throughout the course of the evening she was worried that a fight would break out, the discussion was so heated, but the man in charge always managed to say something diplomatic to calm everyone down. In fact, the more Rory watched him, the more impressed she was with his leadership skills. He had a quiet intensity to him, a disheveled charisma that she found fascinating.  
  
In the end, a tentative decision was reached to start a campus-wide petition and send representatives to meet with the administration. If that didn't work there'd be another meeting, but general consensus was that an organized protest was the next option. The room slowly began to empty out as people stretched stiff legs and chatted in smaller groups. Rory checked her watch and was shocked to realize that it was approaching midnight.  
  
You ready? Judith stood at her shoulder, grinning.  
  
Yeah, let's go. As they headed for the stairs Rory cast one look over her shoulder, searching for the man among the crowd. He was deep in conversation with a group of people who all seemed to be talking to him at once. He didn't look up and Rory turned away.  
  
Outside, it was raining lightly, the air more misty than truly wet. It was still warm enough to be comfortable. Rory and Judith walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the calm that was a fresh breath of air after the meeting.  
  
Judith asked abruptly. When Rory didn't answer right away she gave her an affectionate push. What'd you think?  
  
It...wasn't what I expected, Rory admitted.  
  
Oh yeah? Judith hopped up on a low stone wall that ran beside the sidewalk. She was still shorter than Rory. What were you expecting? Girls with no bras and guys with long hair? Birkenstocks for all?  
  
Rory said quickly. Judith snorted and she admitted sheepishly, Well, maybe a little.  
  
Oh, Rory, Judith wrapped a playful arm around her neck. We have so much to teach you.  
  


*  


  
Rory was trying to study, and it wasn't working very well. The book, as she'd told Judith, was really interesting, but far too dense for this time of night. She closed it with a sigh, tossed it off the bed, then sent her millionth silent apology to whoever was living below her when it hit the floor loudly. As she reached over to turn out the light she was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of homesickness, a desperation to hear her mother's voice. She wondered if it was too late to call, decided she didn't care.  
  
Dialing hastily, she yawned, conscious of the overflow of things she wanted to say. There was the sound of the phone being dropped, a groan, and a muffled voice Rory recognized as her mother.  
  
What was that?  
  
I dropped the phone. A scraping sound, a quiet curse, then,   
  
Hey, it's Rory. Rory reached over and searched for a pair of socks in her drawer. It was cold in her room. Can I talk to Mom for a second?  
  
Uh, yeah, hold on.  
  
Rory always felt a little embarrassed when Luke answered the phone, like she was intruding on her mom's private life or something. It was common knowledge that they were living together, but it was still weird to reach them in bed. At least this time they'd clearly been asleep.  
  
her mother's voice was sharp with concern.  
  
  
  
Is everything okay?  
  
Yeah, I just...really wanted to talk to you right now. I'm sorry, is it too late?  
  
Oh, babe, of course not. Hold on, let me just leave the room so he doesn't start complaining... Rory could hear her mother trip over something, then shut the door. Okay, what's up?  
  
Nothing, really. I just wanted to talk.   
  
There was a moment of silence, each waiting for the other to speak first. Finallay her mom broke the ice. Okay, how's school?  
  
Pretty good.  
  
What book are you reading right now?   
  
For school or for fun?  
  
Um...for school.  
  
Guns, Germs, and Steel, for my sociology class. You wouldn't like it.  
  
Hey, now, that's not fair! I might like it! What's it about?  
  
The course of human history from a scientific point of view considering geographic and ecological patterns, as well as—  
  
Okay, okay, you're right! her mom sighed. You are _way_ too smart for me, kiddo.  
  
No, I'm not. Rory said quietly. She had begun to tire of of the familiar refrain of Look how smart Rory is! It made her feel isolated. It was true that her mother didn't like the same books and hadn't gone to college, but she was brilliant in her own way. People always pointing out Rory's scholarly aptitude made her feel embarrassed instead of proud. Sometimes it was enough to make her wish that Jess was still around; he'd always matched her in intellectual curiosity if not in ambition.  
  
she tried to change topics, I realized this evening that I forgot to ask you what flowers Babette planted this year.   
  
Oh, I didn't tell you?!  
  
No, what?! Rory settled a pillow behind her back, excited to be listening to a story from home. Sometimes that worried her, the fact that after two years Stars Hollow was still more home than Yale. She was happy at Yale, but she couldn't wait for each visit to her house, her town, each story of the wacky residents she'd known since toddlerhood. It made her wonder why she'd been unable to sever that tie and move on to a new phase of her life.  
  
She planted cosmos this year, but it turns out Morey is ridiculously allergic.  
  
Oh, boy. Rory smiled, recalling that Morey had one of the loudest sneezes she'd ever heard. What happened?  
  
Well, they're living in Luke's apartment for the time being, and Apricot's living with us. Her mother dropped her voice. And he'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but that cat has found a soul mate in Luke!  
  
You're kidding. Really? Rory was tempted to giggle at the idea of rough, gruff Luke cuddling with the tiny ball of orange fur that was Babette's cat.  
  
I kid you not. He kept muttering things about killing it, until one time I found him watching TV with her curled up in his lap.  
  
That little hussy!  
  
I know. Trying to steal my man. I should be wildly jealous.  
  
Rory felt a pang hearing about this family that existed without her. Occasionally it felt like her mother had replaced her with Luke in her absence. Her mom still seemed to care about her, but she didn't seem to need Rory the same way Rory needed her. Rory knew she was letting an unrelated situation play into her insecurities, but it still hurt sometimes.  
  
Her mom yawned. I hate to do this to you, but is there any chance we could pick this up tomorrow? I'm really exhausted.  
  
Of course. She paused, then asked the question before thinking it through. Hey, Mom? Do you think that colleges should be able to dispense the morning after pill?  
  
Her mom's tone was suspicious. Did something happen?  
  
No, not for me. Rory felt silly for having asked. I meant more in the general sense.  
  
Not specific to you?  
  
  
  
I don't know. She sighed again. I've really never thought about before.  
  
So think about it. Is it too controversial or is it the students' right to have access?  
  
I...don't know. Her mom sounded confused. Why are you so anxious to find out what I think? Is it for a class or something?  
  
No, it's just— Rory stopped, realizing that she was about to say that she wanted to know what her opinion should be. The idea of it horrified her. She was twenty years old, and she was still waiting for her mother's opinion before forming her own. Never mind. Forget I asked.  
  
She ended the conversation in a hurry and turned off the light, but remained sitting up in bed, trapped in thought. She wondered why she'd asked her mother that question, and why she was annoyed when her mother hadn't had an answer for her. If she no longer needed her mom, why did she care so much what she thought? And if she still needed her, how come that whole conversation had left her surprisingly empty?  
  


*  
  


Yeah, could I get, uh, a cup of coffee please? Yeah, no, just black's fine. Thanks.  
  
The voice sounded familiar; Rory looked up from her notebook. She was sitting at a small table by herself at Durfee's, notes spread all around her as she attempted to start her sociology paper. Standing by the counter was the young man who had led the Voice of Liberty meeting the week before. He accepted his coffee with a nod, turned, saw her, and ambled over to her table, smiling in a way that made her think he remembered her.  
  
So...is anyone sitting here? He indicated the empty seat. Rory shook her head mutely, wishing she could force herself to smile. He put down his coffee then pulled out the chair in a way that rattled the table and sent the cup flying, coffee spreading across her papers like cancer. She half started from her chair. He swore and immediately tried to stop the flow of coffee with his hands. Aw, jesus, I'm so sorry! Here, let me—  
  
She grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter near her table. Don't worry about it! These stupid tables move so easily!  
  
God, I'm such a klutz! he muttered, mopping at the coffee. Did I ruin anything?  
  
She inspected the messy pile of papers, peeling apart two pages. No real damage done, she assured him. Not the first time I've spilled a drink on my work.  
  
He tossed a few wet napkins into the trash and held up a hand as if baffled by himself. I'm an idiot. Listen, I'm just going to take my mostly empty cup and get out of your way, okay? I'm sorry I bothered you.  
  
Rory had to laugh, feeling a little more at ease. No, go ahead and sit down. Really.  
  
You sure? I might spill again.  
  
I'll move my papers. She piled up her book and notes and put them on the floor next to her bag. He still stood there, hesitating. Come on, sit down.  
  
He settled ungracefully into the chair across from her, long legs sprawled sideways, his arm hooked over the back of the chair. Today his grey t-shirt read _Blessed are the Peacemakers_. He extended a hand across the table that was proportional to his ridiculous height. Tobias Levy. I only answer to Toby.  
  
Rory Gilmore.  
  
He tasted the name and took a thoughtful sip of coffee.  
  
It's short for Lorelai.  
  
He thought for another minute, running a finger down the side of his goatee. German mermaid, he said finally, pointing at Rory. Right? She led guys to their deaths on the Rhine. A pause, then he asked, Do you live up to the name?  
  
Rory was embarrassed. No. Not at all. I think my mom does, though. Or used to. Her name's Lorelai also. Although we spell it with an a' instead of an She blushed. I never talk this much.  
  
I'm sure. He changed topics abruptly. So am I right in remembering that you came to the meeting the other night? Was that you?  
  
Yeah, that was me. Judith forced me to come.  
  
Forced you? His eyebrows, long and oddly elegant, lifted in surprise.  
  
Well, not _forced_ forced, more like pressured. No, not pressured, convinced. She _convinced_ me to come. She rubbed the side of her head, laughed nervously. I sound like a complete idiot.  
  
Hey, who's the fool who spilled coffee all over your work? He leaned back, arms locked behind his head. She avoided his eyes and turned her attention to tearing her napkin into small pieces. He changed the subject again. So, Rory, what year are you?  
  
I'm a sophomore.  
  
Huh. What's your major?  
  
English. I want to be a journalist. She took a sip of her coffee, reminded herself to be friendlier. What about you?  
  
First year of graduate school. I want to get my PH.D. in Political Science.  
  
She nodded and studied him from beneath her lashes. Do you want to go into politics?  
  
Yes, but not in the way you mean. He sat back, making a steeple of his index fingers and placing them beneath his chin. Listen, Rory, I'm actually pretty glad I ran into you. This Friday we're having another Voice of Liberty meeting.  
  
The petition didn't work? she guessed.  
  
He smiled slightly, ironically. We never really thought it would.   
  
She thought for a moment. Do you want me to spread the word about the protest?  
  
Eventually, but right now we're just trying to get a team together to plan the thing. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, his eyes intense, excited. The thing is, if we're actually going to do this, we have to get started right away. He shrugged apologetically. The two girls who organized all our protests last year graduated, so I'm sort of making this up as I go.  
  
She reached for her day planner. When's the meeting?  
  
It's at six, on Friday, but don't do this just because you feel obligated. He reached across the table and pulled the pen from her fingers, put the cap on and handed it back to her. Organizing a protest, a really good protest, is a _lot_ of work. Think about this first, okay?  
  
She nodded obediently.   
  
He checked his watch and sat up abruptly. Shit, I was supposed to call someone half an hour ago! I hate to run out on you—  
  
No, go ahead. She started to put her papers in her bag. I should probably head back to the dorm anyway. It was great meeting you, Toby.  
  
He started to leave, then turned around at the door. I'm really sorry about the coffee.  
  
Already forgotten.   
  
Rory watched the narrow outline of his back fade into the night as he strode away, strands of his unruly dark hair clear against the deep blue sky. She had to admit to herself that she'd liked him just as much in person as she had while watching him at the meeting. He was warm and funny, of course, but it was the razor-sharp intelligence she sensed lurking beneath the surface that fascinated her. An idea crept into her head and took up residence before she noticed it. Once she did she was embarassed and tried to dismiss it as foolish and illogical, but the thought persisted, playing in the corners of her mind.   
  
The thought was: _by this time next year I will have kissed that man_.  


  
*


	2. sonnet entitled how to run the world

**Summary**: Rory Gilmore's life was never complicated. At least not until Toby Levy walked into her life. Charismatic and startlingly compelling, he and his ideals would change her life forever.  
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.**  
Author's Notes**: The titles are all from e.e. cummings' poems. Thank you for those who were willing to risk reading this story and who were so patient for an update. I had a crazy spring. Everything from Yale is used fictionally, and may be inaccurate; I did my best with the research. I provided the **cast list** below so everyone could know what these new characters are supposed to look like.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own any original characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe. The others are mine.  
  


*

  
  


**Cast List:**_  
Adrien Brody_ as Toby  
_Keira Knightley _as Margot  
_Iyari Limon_ as J.J.  
_Zhang Ziyi_ as Emma  
_Corey Sevier_ as Andy  
_Brittany Snow _as Libby  
_Matt Czuchry_ as Diego  
  


***  
  
sonnet entitled how to run the world)**

  


  
*  


  
So then he said to me Look, last night was great, and if you want to do it again, anytime, that's fine with me. But I'm just not looking for a commitment right now.'  
  
There's a spot. Rory indicated the open seats with her breakfast tray and picked up her pace, glancing back towards her friend Margot as she walked. So what did _you_ say? When he said that?  
  
Margot smiled innocently as they settled facing one another across the table. I said, Well, Matt, I have to say I'm not looking for a commitment right now either.' She paused for effect. I'm just looking for someone who's a good fuck, so you probably won't be hearing from me anytime soon.  
  
Rory gasped, delighted and horrified. You didn't!  
  
I did. Margot tried to keep a straight face as she spread butter on her blueberry muffin.  
  
Rory regarded her friend with a mixture of shock and awe. Margot's frankness and ease regarding sex never ceased to catch her off guard, yet she still took a measure of vicarious delight in hearing about each escapade.  
  
Wait, isn't he in your psychology class? Won't that be really awkward?  
  
Margot shrugged. It's a large class. I'll avoid him.  
  
Rory took a sip of her coffee and shuddered; she missed Luke's. You make it sound like it's not a big deal.  
  
It's _not_ a big deal.  
  
For you, maybe.  
  
Margot rolled her eyes. It's not a big deal for anyone who isn't afraid of sex.  
  
I'm not afraid of sex, Rory said. I'm just waiting for the right person.  
  
Margot stuck out her tongue.  
  
Rory giggled,   
  
It was an ongoing debate between them, one they'd decided to handle lightly instead of delving into philosophical discussion every time the subject came up, which was often. No matter what arguments were used, Rory would always believe that Margot slept with too many guys and Margot would always be convinced that Rory needed to loosen up and get laid.   
  
Two years away from home hadn't done much in the way of erasing the girl-next-door element in Rory's character. Her one drinking experience was at a dorm party, where she'd tried a sip of beer on a whim and almost spat it out in disgust. She still avoided walking past the rooms where the marijuana smoke was omnipresent, even in the middle of the day. College made it easy to be shy, to blend into the background of large lectures, to build a sweet little world for herself of schoolwork and weekends at home and hanging out with her few close friends.  
  
In stark contrast, Margot was outgoing and popular, perfectly happy to attend frat parties on the nights she wasn't hanging out with Rory. Family connections and field hockey had gotten her into Yale; academics bored her. Tall and model-thin, with high cheekbones and a striking combination of brown eyes and blond hair, she was the kind of girl who turned heads when she walked by. After years of hanging out with slightly offbeat Lane and abrasive Paris, it caught Rory off guard to suddenly be the one. Guys always hit on Margot, jotting down her phone number on the palms of their hands, while Rory waited patiently by her shoulder.  
  
In a lot of ways, Margot reminded Rory of her mother. Her parents, Eloise and Francis van Haas, were respected members of Hartford society and good friends with the Gilmores, which was how the two girls had been introduced. Margot was an accident, the youngest child in her family by far and indulged to the point that she tended to think the world revolved around her. She hated her parents and their world and did her best to ignore their wishes regarding just about everything. Yet despite that, she was warm and funny and fiercely loyal to her friends, perfectly happy to forgo a party if Rory needed to talk.  
  
Margot exclaimed suddenly, setting down her orange juice. She swallowed then asked, Are you going home this weekend?  
  
I wasn't planning to, why?  
  
My parents are having this huge dinner party and...there's someone I really don't want to face alone.  
  
Uh oh, Rory said knowingly. Who'd you do this time?  
  
Margot leaned across the table conspiratorially. Okay, remember that son of my parents' friends who you met at our Christmas party this year?  
  
The really cute one? You slept with him?!  
  
No, his younger brother. Steven. At Rory's look she held up her hands in protest. I know, I know, it was a really stupid idea, but he was like a cute little puppy, always following me around. And I was really bored! I thought it'd be a win-win situation!  
  
Let me guess: it wasn't? Rory drained the last of her coffee. What happened?  
  
Margot looked down, busying herself in tidying the dishes on her tray. It was his first time, and...let's just say that the sprinklers came on during the national anthem, if you know what I mean.  
  
It took Rory a second to unravel what she meant. Oh! You mean he—?  
  
Yes, unfortunately. Margot stood abruptly and Rory followed, both carrying their trays. Anyway, I really, _really_ don't want to get stuck alone with him this weekend. _Please_ say you'll come and protect me?  
  
Rory opened her mouth to say sure, she was happy to help, and plus she wanted to get a look at this kid Margot had deflowered, when she remembered the Voice of Liberty meeting. She really wanted to stick to what she'd told Toby and go to it. I'm really sorry, but I have this...meeting.  
  
You're kidding! Margot wailed. What meeting?  
  
Rory pushed some hair behind her ear, Voice of Liberty?  
  
Margot stared at her as they walked. Isn't that that radical left-wing group?  
  
Rory shrugged, I guess so.  
  
Margot said shortly.   
  
Rory asked.  
  
Nothing, I just didn't know you were friends with people like that.  
  
Rory suddenly felt defensive. I'm not really friends with them _per se_. I just said I'd come to the next meeting, and I'd feel bad if I didn't.  
  
Oh, okay. The slight measure of relief in Margot's voice was enough to make Rory study her profile as they cut across the grass. She stayed silent for a minute, trying to figure out what about the conversation was bothering her.  
  
If I _was_ friends with them, she asked, that wouldn't be a problem, right?  
  
Silly, of course not! Margot slung an arm around her shoulders. As long as you don't start running around making trouble and getting yourself arrested, I have no problem with it. She pulled away and started walking backwards away from Rory. I'm leaving right after class, so I'll see you Monday, okay?  
  
Rory nodded, burying her hands in her pockets. Call me if little Stevie corners you, okay?  
  
Oh, I will. Margot rolled her eyes and waved.   
  
It wasn't until after Margot disappeared that Rory realized what had upset her about the conversation. Margot's tone had been patronizing throughout, in a way that was either new or that Rory had never noticed before. The realization made her uncomfortable, and also the tiniest bit angry.  
  


*

  
  


Rory stared uncertainly at the door, shifting the weight of her bag on her shoulder. She was pretty sure she was in the right building, and the red bumper sticker taped to the door that read If You're Not Outraged, Then You're Not Paying Attention was a pretty good indicator, but she still felt strange just barging into the meeting. It had been one thing with Judith dragging her the other night; it was quite another to muster the courage to walk in on her own. What if no one wanted her there? What if Toby didn't even remember who she was?  
  
Someone was walking towards the door, she could hear a voice growing louder, ...right back, unless they're out. The door was yanked open and Rory found herself staring at a young woman with a brightly colored bandana wrapped around her dark hair. the woman said warily. Can I help you?  
  
Is this the Voice of Liberty meeting? Rory asked.  
  
Sure is. The woman tapped the bumper sticker authoritatively, gave Rory a tight smile, and started up the steps. Go ahead in.  
  
Rory gathered her confidence and pushed open the door, making her way into the room. It looked different empty, surprisingly smaller than she'd remembered. She counted five people sitting in one corner, talking; Toby had his back to her, but she recognized his slender fingers when he ran them through his hair.  
  
A sweet-faced Asian girl was sitting in the armchair facing the door, her long legs crossed neatly over the arm. She spotted Rory and smiled. Come on in. At her words Toby craned his head around to look, caught sight of Rory and grinned, jumping to his feet.  
  
Rory, you came! Fantastic! He turned back to the others, one hand on her elbow. Guys, this is Rory. She wants to help out.  
  
Rory shifted nervously under the gaze of strangers. Toby's touch on her bare arm was more distracting than she would have liked to admit. Am I...late?  
  
Hell no, he laughed. We can't start without J.J. and she went to get drinks. He pulled her towards the group. Come on, have a seat.   
  
Rory sat awkwardly on the ground, feeling clumsy with her bag. A dark-haired man was stretched out on his back beside her, practically spread-eagled and for all appearances dead to the world. A blonde girl was seated in the second armchair, her legs draped over the shoulders the equally blonde guy sitting in front of her.  
  
Toby slouched comfortably, moving his arm up onto the back of the couch. Here, I'll introduce you to everyone. This is Emma, he indicated the Asian girl beside him, and, across from me we have Libby and Diego. Libby gave Rory a chipper and a little wave; Diego nodded. And this slacker, Toby aimed a gentle kick at the body on the floor, this is Andy.  
  
Andy lifted his head a fraction to glance at Rory, dropped it and raised his arm in a gruff salute.   
  
Rory looked down at her hands, hoping they'd return to their conversation and stop watching her. Toby had wedged himself into the corner of the couch in the position that seemed to be his favorite, one arm on the back and the other on the armrest.  
  
Andy suddenly slammed his hand down on the floor. Rory was the only one to startle. What the _hell_ is taking J.J. so long?  
  
Andy just pulled an all-nighter, Libby explained. He's in desperate need of caffeine.  
  
Rory smiled. I can sympathize.  
  
There was an awkward silence. Emma resettled a pad on her lap and started writing again. Diego tilted his head back and said something softly to Libby; she laughed and started massaging his shoulders. Andy's leg twitched. Rory hesitantly met Toby's gaze; he winked. Rory looked down and smiled to herself, feeling a little more at ease.  
  
Sorry it took so long! J.J. burst back through the door, carrying six cans of soda. Andy, they only had decaf Pepsi so I got you a Coke instead. Hope you don't mind.  
  
Andy groaned and fumbled blindly for the can she'd placed beside him, while J.J. flopped down beside Toby on the couch, throwing her head back against his arm in mock exhaustion. She sighed dramatically and wisps of hair flew away from her face. He smiled down at her. What'd you get for me?  
  
Are you kidding me? J.J. sat up and leaned away from him, shielding two cans of Sprite. These are both for me. Go get your own damn drink.  
  
Shut up, he responded affectionately, reaching out a hand and shoving her bandana down onto her forehead. She growled and dropped the sodas to fix her hair. He seized the opportunity to grab one of the cans.  
  
J.J. pushed her bandana back into place, looking flushed. Did I miss anything while I was off playing waitress?  
  
This is Rory, Libby offered helpfully.  
  
Hi Rory.  
  
  
  
J.J. popped the tab on her soda, downed a gulp like she was doing tequila shots, and gestured with the can, how'd you fall in with these losers? Rory opened her mouth to answer but J.J. had already moved on, demanding of the group, What are we waiting for? Let's get started!  
  
Emma swung her legs to the floor and leaned forward, handing out sheets of paper, Here's the most relevant information I found on the morning after pill, so we can make sure we're all up to speed on the facts. She looked chagrined. Sorry, I didn't bring a copy for you, Rory.  
  
That's okay, she can have mine, J.J. said quickly. I'll look on with Toby. She handed over the paper to Rory, who took it with a small smile.  
  
The group lapsed into silence. Rory bowed her head over the paper in her lap, desperately willing herself not to notice the way J.J. was leaning against Toby's shoulder, saying something quietly that make him grin and shake his head, chuckling.  
  
The dramatic part of her wanted desperately to fake a missed appointment or sick stomach, and bolt from the room, up the stairs, and out of the building, never to be heard from again. But the idea of calling attention to herself in such an embarrassing way was more overwhelming than the interior humiliation of realizing that she'd completely misinterpreted Toby's friendliness as flirtation.   
  
Rory didn't stay because she realized that a political cause was more important than a cute guy. She stayed because she felt guilty admitting her own superficiality, because she was too timid to escape an unbearably awkward situation. She stayed for all the wrong reasons.  
  
But she stayed.  
  


*

  
  


Libby leaned forward to grab another handful of pretzels. This friend of mine in the graphics department said he can print us t-shirts and signs for free, if we provide the materials.  
  
Andy was sprawled in one of the armchairs, arms and legs all going in separate directions. He's probably hoping he'll get lucky. He dodged the pen Libby threw at him.  
  
Either way, it's great! Toby leaned forward excitedly. Emma, can you look into how much it would cost to get a bunch of t-shirts, say a hundred, wholesale?  
  
Already on it. Emma was busily flipping through the yellow pages. Cell phone? Diego offered his. She unfolded herself from the chair and walked away, plugging her ear so she could listen.  
  
Over two hours had passed since the start of the meeting, and Rory was starting to forget that a world existed beyond the room. She'd never imagined the work and dedication that went into planning those strikes and protests that were scattered through the pages of her high school history textbook. And this was really small scale, compared to most. She'd realized, rather sheepishly, that she'd been laboring under the false impression that people just showed up at these kind of things, as if by some kind of righteous coincidence.   
  
When are we actually going to do this? Diego asked, biting at a fingernail. Do we know?  
  
Toby slid off the couch and grabbed a few pretzels. He remained crouched beside Rory for a moment, thinking.   
  
Libby didn't look up. She and J.J. were bent over a stack of scrap paper, brainstorming slogans.  
  
Can you call the campus health centers and try to find out what day they've booked the most appointments? We want as much exposure as possible when we do this.  
  
  
  
Toby said quietly to Rory. Watch her, she's great at this kind of stuff.  
  
Like an actress getting into character, Libby fluffed her hair and smiled expectantly, waiting for an answer on the other end. Hi! I was wondering if I could make an appointment with Dr. Lockwood this week? She waited patiently. Oh, no, I can't do Tuesday...um...let me check...Wednesday I have an interview then...do you have anything earlier that day? Oh. Do you have anything on Thursday because that would really be the best—you're completely booked on Thursday? Okay, let me see —no, I'm going home for my sister's wedding on Friday. Tell you what, I'll see if I can reschedule my interview, and I'll call you back. Thanks. Okay, bye! Libby hung up, looking pleased with herself. Diego applauded.  
  
Toby asked.  
  
Libby bent down and stuck her cell phone back in her purse. She just _couldn't_ _imagine_ fitting me in on Thursday. Apparently a new receptionist accidentally double-booked a bunch of appointments.  
  
Wow, that's convenient. J.J. turned her gaze to Toby. Is that enough time? To raise a crowd?  
  
He shrugged and straightened up, walking a little to stretch his legs. I hope so. I mean, who do we _know_ will help, besides us?  
  
Um, Emily and Wendy, definitely.  
  
What about Joanna?  
  
J.J. scrunched up her face.   
  
Rory leaned back against the side of the couch. She didn't know any of the people they were discussing; once again she felt like an outsider among this group of people. After the first few minutes of the meeting everyone had acted like she didn't exist. Not meanly, just going about their planning unaffected by her presence. The few times she'd tried to voice a suggestion she'd been cut off or drowned out by someone oblivious to her attempt to be helpful. She wasn't sure whether to be hurt or annoyed, so she'd settled for a restless, discontent feeling somewhere between the two.  
  
Emma was back, scribbled figures all over the page of her notebook. Toby peered over her shoulder. What's the news?  
  
Good. I found a place having a closeout sale. Fifty cents a shirt if we buy over a hundred.  
  
Sounds workable. What colors?  
  
Emma made a face. We have a choice between mint green and rust.  
  
For the love of christ, not mint green! Andy ordered, massaging his temples. I refuse to wear it. I'll quit.  
  
Toby looked amused. Better go with the rust. When can we have them by?  
  
  
  
Libby, is that enough time for your friend to print them? Plus our signs?  
  
I think so. As long as we have a slogan designed by then.  
  
Okay, let's get on that.  
  
Already ahead of you, J.J. announced. She held up a rough sketch of big block letters and read it aloud, Unwanted Pregnancies Ruin Lives.' Short and simple, right?  
  
Rory sat up a little straighter. For the first time it occurred to her that the medical care for which they were fighting could have seriously impacted her mother's life twenty years ago. And hers by extension.   
  
I was thinking, Diego spoke up, that we could have a little picture with the words on the front—Libby said she'd draw it—and on the back we could have a few of the more positive statistics, how the morning after pill allows people to avoid unwanted pregnancy and stuff.  
  
Toby crossed his arms. I like it.  
  
But pregnancies _don't_ necessarily ruin people's lives. The words came from Rory's mouth, surprising her with their sharpness.  
  
Well, yeah, J.J. said lightly, undeterred. It doesn't _always _apply. But, she looked around to the others for support, a confident smile playing at her mouth, what _self-respecting_ woman these days wants to give up her education and goals to raise a child?!  
  
Rory knew that was her cue to nod and acquiesce, to agree that anyone in their right mind would think so too, to blend into the background again. Instead, she felt herself filled with an emotion that she'd often read about in books, but never experienced firsthand: righteous indignation.  
  
She cleared her throat. My mom had me when she was sixteen.  
  
The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it was still awkward. J.J. glanced away, whether embarrassed or annoyed it was hard to tell. Rory could feel her face getting hot. Andy broke the silence from where he was sprawled in one of the armchairs by guffawing loudly.  
  
Well done, J.J., he said, applauding a few times for sarcastic effect, that was an open mouth, insert foot' moment if I've ever heard one.  
  
Shut up, J.J. ordered. Now she definitely seemed embarrassed.  
  
Well, we don't have to decide anything right now, Diego said hurriedly.   
  
Of course not, Libby answered. Mike just needs the design by Monday.  
  
That concession seemed to signal the end to the meeting, and Rory was immeasurably relieved as the others stood and stretched, beginning to gather up their scattered papers and trash. J.J. was the first to leave, slinging a woven bag covered in political buttons over her shoulder and hurrying out of the room; Rory could hear her pounding up the stairs outside. Diego twisted from side to side like a runner or a gymnast, loosening his back. Toby waited behind the rest, holding onto the straps of his yellow backpack with both hands, like a little kid. As soon as Rory headed for the door he fell into step beside her.  
  
Glad you came?  
  
She thought the question over seriously, and realized that her overall feeling towards the meeting was more positive than she'd thought. Or maybe it was just that talking to him seemed to put her in a better mood. I think so. She smiled up at him, liking the way he was watching their feet as they walked. You guys are a little intimidating at first.  
  
I can see that. Toby nodded, accepting her comment. He glanced at her suddenly. You're coming back though, right?  
  
I guess so. If you want me to come.  
  
I invited you before, didn't I? And you know what? I knew it. He grinned, pointing to her. I knew you'd come through for us.  
  
She blushed. You knew? she asked doubtfully.  
  
I knew, he said emphatically. You just had this—this _look_ in your eyes; when I got home that evening the first thing I said to J.J. was We have a live one! She's in for the long haul!' He chuckled. Now you _have_ to be at the meeting on Sunday, or I'm going to look pretty stupid.  
  
I'll come, she said softly. They walked in silence for a minute. Rory tried to ignore the ache in her stomach after hearing Toby mention going home to J.J. She slid her hand up and held onto her own elbow, rubbing the skin nervously. Is...J.J. mad at me?  
  
he asked incredulously, laughing. Because you dared to contradict her? Of course not!  
  
Are you sure? she asked nervously. She seemed kind of annoyed.  
  
He shook his head, looking amused. That's just J.J.  
  
  
  
He rubbed a hand over his goatee. Look, you gotta understand about J.J. She comes off as really pushy and stuff, but it's just...how she is. She's totally harmless. There was a pause, then he added fondly, She needs a verbal smack down now and again.  
  
Rory studied her hands. Sounds like you know her pretty well.  
  
He smiled absently but said nothing.  
  
Feeling depressed again, Rory looked away, blinking in the light of a street lamp. she said self-consciously, stopping beneath the light. I live in that direction. She pointed over her shoulder.  
  
Oh, sure. He nodded, half to himself, then kicked her lightly on the leg. So, I'll see you on Sunday then?  
  
You will, she nodded, smiling.  
  
Until tomorrow, then. He sketched an elegant bow, grinning, and under the streetlight his angular face was thrown into high relief. She was reminded of a courtly Victorian gentleman, only scrappier and more ethnic. And wearing sandals.  
  
She turned towards the dorm, hugging herself against the night chill. As much as she was already trying to repeat a mantra of _he's taken he's taken he's taken_ to herself, she couldn't ignore the newfound thrill of his smile. It was vaguely tempting to run back and kiss him, to throw caution and decorum to the wind, but he was gone when she risked a look behind her.   
  


*

  
  


The next afternoon Rory returned to her room after lunch to find the light on her answering machine blinking furiously. She pressed play and flopped on the bed, absently plaiting her hair into two braids. Maybe she'd cut it short, just to try something new.  
  
The first message was from Margot. Rory, it's me. She was speaking in a room that echoed. Listen, I can't talk for long because I'm hiding in the bathroom at the golf club—I'm having lunch with my parents—but I just _had_ to tell you two things. There was a pause and her voice dropped. One: the second time was _so _much better than the first, thank god. Two: little Stevie? Ain't so little, if you know what I mean! She giggled. Okay, gotta go! Call my cell if you need me!  
  
Rory pressed delete. There was a long silence as the second message began to play. Hey, Rory. It's J.J. From Voice of Liberty. She cleared her throat, and Rory sat up, listening. It took some work to track down your number, but anyway...I, uh, wanted to let you know that you were totally right to call me on being...insensitive, yesterday. I—We're really...very happy to have you helping us; we always need more honesty, you know? Anyway...I, uh, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.  
  
The message had Toby's fingerprints all over it, but Rory didn't care. She grinned to herself and bounced a little on the bed. Toby had taken her side.  
  


*


	3. when the world is puddlewonderful

Dedicated to **kat**, my faithful beta, banner goddess, and friend. You rock.  


  


***  
**

Summary: Rory Gilmore's life was never been complicated. At least not until Toby Levy walked into her life. Charismatic and startlingly compelling, he and his ideals would change her life forever.  
**Rating**: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.  
**Feedback**: _Greatly appreciated._ I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything. Thank you to those who have kindly left gorgeous reviews. I adore them and treasure them. Please be generous and send more.**  
Author's Notes**: The titles are all from e.e. cummings' poems. Everything from Yale is used fictionally, and may be inaccurate; I did my best with the research. I provided the **cast list** below so everyone could know what these new characters are supposed to look like. Also, some people have commented that Rory does want to go into journalism, but I'm writing this having thought that she was always strangly disinterested in politics for someone who wanted to specialize in that.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own any original characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe. My plots and prose and unique characters are all mine, copywrited July of 2003, and not for use without my permission.  
  


*

  
  


**Cast List:**_  
Adrien Brody_ as Toby  
_Keira Knightley _as Margot  
_Iyari Limon_ as J.J.  
_Zhang Ziyi_ as Emma  
_Corey Sevier_ as Andy  
_Brittany Snow _as Libby  
_Matt Czuchry_ as Diego  
  


*  
  
**when the world is puddle-wonderful**  
  
*

  
  


Damn it! Rory knocked her head lightly against her door. It was only eleven on Tuesday morning and her day already sucked. She'd fallen asleep over her calculus problems the night before, woken with a neck ache and her work unfinished, spent all of breakfast listening to Margot being giggly about her weekend with Steven the wonder-schlong, then spilled orange juice on her new Banana Republic capris. Now she was running late for her 11:00 Chaucer class, and she'd just locked her copy of The Canterbury Tales in her room. Pissed and worn-out, she unlocked the door and rifled angrily through the mess of books on the floor beside her desk.  
  
Just as she'd grabbed the book, discovering that she'd left it on the floor in a way that had bent the cover, the phone rang. She swore and reached up for the phone from her position on the floor. she demanded, feeling hostile towards the world.  
  
  
  
Who's this? Distracted, she couldn't place the voice. She tried to balance the phone between her shoulder and ear while she stuffed the tattered book in her bag, but it kept slipping.  
  
It's Toby.  
  
Rory sat back on her heels, fumbling for a better grip on the phone. Oh my god, Toby, hi!  
  
Hi!...Is this a bad time?  
  
She brushed hair from her face, feeling embarrassed, as if he could see her sitting in a disgruntled heap on the floor. I've got a minute. What's up?  
  
He took a deep breath. Okay, I know you're probably busy and all—so feel free to refuse—but I was wondering if you had time to give me a hand today. See, the t-shirts and stuff are all printed, but we have to move them ourselves from the graphics department...and anyway, he coughed, clearing his throat, everyone else bailed on me and I really don't want to move it all by myself. Any chance you're free to help?  
  
she checked her watch. It was 11:05. I've got class until one, can you wait until then?  
  
Yes, absolutely! Thank you so much! She could hear him rifling through papers. You know where the graphics storage room is, right?  
  
I guess so... Rory knew she'd have to get out her map from freshman year to find it.  
  
He must have heard her uncertainty. Or I could meet you after your class.  
  
She tried not to sound too relieved. That'd be great.  
  
Okay, where should I meet you?  
  
Um, LC.  
  
He chuckled, a gentle sound. Of course, I forgot you're an English major. Okay, great. I'll see you at one. He hung up.  
  
Rory jumped to her feet, throwing aside her bag as she searched frantically through the clothes lying on her floor. After the orange juice incident at breakfast she'd changed into a ratty pair of pajama pants. She grabbed a skirt and studied it for a minute before discarding it. No one would get that dressed up for a Tuesday morning class, and besides, it would be ridiculous for moving boxes. She pulled on her favorite pair of jeans, worn but still stylish, and added a peasant-style tank top she'd recently bought on a shopping trip with Margot. Much better.  
  
She was really going to be late for class now, but looking a little better would be worth it.  
  


*

  


  
It was drizzling and grey when Rory finally emerged from her class. Keeping an eye out for Toby, she stood awkwardly in front of Linsly-Chittenden Hall, sure that everyone was staring at her. She hated waiting for people; she never knew what to do with her hands.   
  
There you are. Toby had appeared at her shoulder, smiling. Okay, my truck's still at the dorm, but it's close by. You all right with walking in the rain?  
  
Of course. I won't melt. Rory fell into step beside him, glad she had decided against the skirt. As it was, she was probably a little overdressed, but not noticeably so. Toby looked as casual as ever, wearing fraying shorts and a stained white t-shirt with a faded dove symbol on the front. There was a noticeable hole over his right shoulder blade.  
  
What class did you have? he asked as they cut across the grass between Branford and Jonathan Edwards.  
  
she answered. Canterbury Tales.  
  
He cleared his throat, then recited, _Whan that Aprille, with his shoures soote, the droghte of March hath perced to the roote, and bathed every veyne in swich licour, of which vertu engendred is the flour._  
  
Rory was impressed. Her professor had recited the opening prologue in Middle English on the first day of class to impress them, but they had only been studying the modern English version. Where'd you learn to do that?  
  
High school. He smiled at his shoes. I had this awesome teacher for senior English and he had us all memorize it.  
  
Rory fell silent. She wasn't a big fan of small talk to begin with, but she especially hated it with guys she liked. She remembered with a touch of chagrined misery that original excruciating conversation with Dean Forrester, before he became her first boyfriend. This wasn't that bad, at least she wasn't babbling about bakeries. Yet. she tried for a mutual subject, where are the others?  
  
Um, Andy and Libby had class, Emma's working—she's a tour guide—and Diego had rehearsal, I think. Either that or a study group. And J.J.'s exempt.  
  
  
  
He scratched the back of his head, chuckling in a way that suggested subtext. She was up _really_ late last night.   
  
Rory wished she hadn't asked, and strained for a new subject. I didn't know that Diego did theater.  
  
Yeah, he's big in the drama set. That's how he and Libby met.  
  
They're pretty cute together. She hoped he'd take her bait, the mention of romance within the group. He merely nodded, and she pushed a little further. How long have they been a couple?  
  
He snorted, startling her. A couple?! Libby and _Diego_?  
  
Rory was embarrassed by his incredulous reaction; she'd clearly said something wrong. I mean, I thought, you know, they're always...together and— she broke off, confused.  
  
he said, struggling not to laugh too hard, Diego's _gay_.  
  
Rory ducked her head. I'm sorry, I didn't—  
  
No, no, don't apologize! He held up his hands in protest. He'll think it's hysterical.  
  
Oh, my god, don't _tell_ him! she wailed, horrified. Toby grinned teasingly. At that moment, as mortified as she was, she thought he'd never looked more handsome. His face was lit with humor, dark eyes shining, and his normally disobedient hair was stuck to his face in damp strands, tamed by the rain. A raindrop hung on the tip of his long nose. Flustered, she tore her gaze from his and started walking faster; he jogged a little to keep up with her as they made a right on York Street.  
  
I've always been terrible at telling when people are gay, Rory confessed, staring straight ahead. She needed to keep moving and fill the silence, or else she'd have no choice but to reach for his hand as they crossed the street, to lean up and kiss that raindrop off his nose. There was this guy in my town growing up who was fruitier than the produce he sold, but I never figured it out. My mom had to tell me.  
  
Diego will be happy to give you some tips. He pointed. My truck's there, but I left the graphics key in my room.  
  
She eyed the truck through the rain. It didn't appear to have windows. I'll come with you, if that's okay? As middle-school as it felt, she really wanted to see where Toby lived. She cleared her throat as he led her into the dorm complex for grad students. So Libby is...?  
  
Straight. Her boyfriend's at Dartmouth, a real prep-school brat. We're all hoping she'll dump him. He pointed. This way, I'm in the tower.  
  
He led her up to the third floor and into a comfortably messy living room. Books and newspapers were scattered across the worn couch, but the wooden coffee table was clean. It looked lived in and appealing. Rory desperately wanted to curl up in the worn valleys of that sofa with a mug of hot chocolate and a familiar book. And she wanted a man she loved beside her, listening to the soft lull of her voice as she read aloud.  
  
Help yourself, Toby indicated the tiny kitchen and disappeared into a room to her right. I'm just going to go hunt for those keys.  
  
Rory said, with no intention of getting herself something. She couldn't imagine poking around in his kitchen. She stood at the counter, running a hand across the worn surface. Unlike the cold severity of her grandparents' kitchen, or the unused eccentricity of her mother's, this one had an everyday loved feel. The feel of a kitchen where a couple might laugh and cook together, shoulders touching.   
  
A different door opened along the hall, out of Rory's line of vision. Tobes? Is that you? It was J.J. Rory jumped away from the counter guiltily, as if she'd been caught in the act of doing something suspicious or inappropriate. Coveting an acquaintance's kitchen. Or boyfriend.  
  
J.J. walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a white towel. Her long, dark hair hung halfway down her back, dripping on the floor. She stopped dead when she saw Rory standing in the kitchen. Her hands went instinctively to the top of her towel, holding it in place. She half smiled and tilted her head like a bird, confused. Can I...help you?  
  
He forgot his key, Rory managed to say, pointing to the door behind which Toby had disappeared.  
  
J.J.'s face brightened. He _is_ here! Toby! She wandered to the door, one hand still holding onto her towel, and pushed the door open. I was meaning to ask you, have you seen my black bra?  
  
Rory gasped silently and turned away in a hurry. Toby's earlier remark—She was up _really_ late last night— suddenly made a _lot_ more sense. She was terrified of hearing anything else intimate, yet strained to listen, much as she used to half-cover her eyes at scary movies. There was a murmur of laughter, the sound of clothes being flung about, then a triumphant Ah _ha_! from J.J. She reemerged clutching the bra in question, and Rory dared a glance at her. Found it! J.J. announced, then aimed over her shoulder playfully, Clothing thief!  
  
Am not. Toby walked out, jangling the missing keys. You ready, Rory?  
  
Rory tried to play it cool, shrugged, kept her eyes on the floor. Sure. Let's go.  
  
Outside, she paused to tie her sneaker while Toby started the engine, hoping the minute in the cool afternoon rain would give her time to clear her head. A wet strand of hair was sticking to the side of her face; as she stood she reached up to brush it from her eyes but stopped halfway, transfixed by Toby's truck. Every available surface on the back and sides was covered with wildly colorful bumper stickers:_ Peace is Patriotic. Racial Profiling: Guilty Until Proven Innocent. I'm Against the Death Penalty, Look What Happened to Jesus! I'm For the Separation of Church and Hate. Homophobia is a Social Disease. Invest in America: Buy a Congressman! Pro-Child, Pro-Choice. Treehugger._  
  
Toby tapped the horn lightly and she jumped. You coming? He watched her curiously as she got in the car. What's up? he asked.  
  
Nothing. Just reading your bumper stickers, she offered quietly.  
  
Yeah, I know, they're a bit much. J.J. thinks I should take some of them off.  
  
she turned to him, wide-eyed. I love them! I never realized that—that— she fumbled for the important idea that was dawning on her, but it seemed impossible to express, especially when he was smiling at her like she was crazy. She shook her head, dismissing what she was about to say as unbelievably foolish. Never mind.  
  
He darted an assessing look at her, then returned his eyes to the road. She pulled a hair elastic from around her wrist, and, leaning away from the seat, swept her hair up into a messy bun in one smooth motion. She could feel the wisps of hair around her forehead and the back of her neck beginning to curl in the humidity. As they turned the corner and headed towards Green Hall, where the art courses were held, her mind returned to wondering why the bumper stickers had affected her so.  
  
Rory never put anything on her car; her grandparents had bought it and she knew they wouldn't like decorative items. And her mother only had two things on the jeep: a Yale window decal and a silly bumper sticker that read _What if the Hokey Pokey IS what it's all about?_ It wasn't necessarily the multitude of Toby's that surprised Rory, but the breadth of his passion for such a mixed variety of causes and ideals. Her concept of activism was very hazy, more an abstract idea than the solid fact of Toby's beliefs, plastered across the back of his truck in bright, ferocious colors. When she thought it through it made sense that he could feel the same passion for other causes as he felt for this one.  
  
She just hadn't realized it was possible to care about so _many_ things, all at once.  
  


*

  
  


Toby grunted as he tossed the box into the back of his truck. That's the last one, right?  
  
I think so. Rory felt bad that he'd done most of the heavy lifting, with her carrying the smaller stuff in his wake. She swore once again to herself that she'd get in better shape, build up muscle tone in her arms; she hated playing the weak female in situations like this.  
  
Hop in, then.  
  
She scrambled up into the truck and he reached his arm behind her, resting it on the back of her seat. She stiffened for a moment, then realized he was just turning around to back up out of the parking space. The truck rumbled as they sped out of the parking lot.  
  
Rory rolled down her window a little. It was just misting now, not wet enough to be considered rain, but damp, brushing her face. She blinked, then looked at Toby, studying him. Studying the hooked curve of his nose, his bony shoulders, the lock of hair that kept falling in his eyes. The way he kept pushing it away.  
  
She could almost see herself saying, Pull over, leaning over the gear shift and kissing him. Right then and there. As she thought about it she could almost feel the damp cloth of his t-shirt beneath her fingers, as she stroked his back, wrapping herself against him. She shut her eyes, trying to forget the tantalizing image. These fantasies were getting more elaborate in her mind, more passionate, and that was dangerous.   
  
Where are we going now? she asked. Conversation seemed to work for distracting her, at least for a little while.  
  
Well, first we're dropping off the stuff, he pulled over, parking the truck near the building that housed the meetings. And then I'm taking you out for coffee, which I promise not to spill on you this time. He smiled, and got out of the truck. She jumped out and followed him around the back.  
  
You don't have to do that!   
  
It's the least I can do. I insist! You took all this time to help me!  
  
She really wanted to go, to spend more time in his presence, but she didn't want to let on how much she liked him either. That would be embarrassing. Well, if you're going to insist...  
  
I am. He winked and handed her a box of fliers, then gave her a playful push towards the building. Now get going!  
  
It was the work of a few minutes to carry the boxes and signs into the Voice of Liberty room, then they set off towards the coffee shop where'd they'd had their first conversation, feeling the contentment of an pesky task well done. Suddenly feeling more comfortable with Toby, as if they'd bonded over heavy-lifting, Rory stuck her sneakers up on the dashboard and sang along to London Calling on the radio. She told herself that she was imagining things when she thought she saw him looking her way and smiling to himself.  
  
The coffee shop was completely full, so they got their coffee to go and wandered across the green, chatting. Rory wondered if strangers walking past thought she was Toby's girlfriend. She hoped she looked like the type of girl who would be his girlfriend, but maybe her clothes were too preppy.  
  
Have you had any luck getting people to come on Thursday?  
  
At the meeting on Sunday it had been discussed that numbers made a difference in the success of a protest. Each person in the Voice of Liberty was supposed to recruit as many people as possible. Very often, it had been explained, there were plenty of people who never bothered to be a part of Voice of Liberty, but who held strong enough views on the subject that they would join in this time. Rory had planned to ask a couple of girls on her floor who she knew to be very liberal. She'd forgotten, and it seemed embarrassing to admit this to Toby, who was living and breathing this protest at the moment.  
  
There's a couple of girls on my floor who might come, she half-lied. They _might_ come, after all.  
  
He tossed his cup into a trash can.  
  
How many do we have now?  
  
Um, there's forty-five of us in Voice of Liberty, but five aren't coming, most people are bringing at least two or three friends. Emma's bringing a few kids from her advisory. Diego's got the entire drama club coming, as well as the gay co-op. And Libby, he shook his head admiringly, she's rounded up over fifty people.  
  
Rory was impressed. She wasn't sure if she was even on friendly terms with fifty people.  
  
Yeah, there's a reason we call her the public relations department.  
  
Rory laughed, remembering Libby's performance on the phone with the clinic.  
  
And some more people will probably join us once we're out there. People will do anything if you give them a t-shirt and a sign and something to yell.  
  
She nodded. Mob mentality.  
  
Well, that, and J.J. can be _very_ persuasive. He scratched the back of his neck, grinning wryly. Or intimidating. Whatever you want to call it.  
  
Rory wished he hadn't brought the subject back to J.J. again. She drained the last of her coffee, her confidence shrinking. Clearly, Toby thought the world of J.J. And who wouldn't? She was dynamic and self-possessed and could browbeat whole crowds into joining her cause, apparently. She probably could have lifted the heaviest of those boxes by herself. _And_ she had a better figure.  
  
She dragged herself out of her self-pitying downward spiral just in time to spot Margot walking past. She called out before thinking it through. Margot looked up. She started to smile, spotted Toby, and her pleasant look faded. But she did walk in their direction, hands buried in the pockets of her designer black jeans.  
  
Hey, how's it going? Margot's voice was more muted than usual. She wouldn't look Rory in the eye, squinting at Toby's ratty t-shirt instead.  
  
Great. Toby, this is my friend, Margot van Haas. Margot, this is Toby Levy.  
  
Hey, how's it going? Toby shook Margot's hand. She removed it rather stiffly, and looked as though she wanted to wipe it on her pants. She gave Toby an almost nonexistent smile and turned to Rory, her body language subtly dismissing him.   
  
You heading back to the dorm? she asked. Toby looked a little nonplussed.  
  
Rory looked at him.  
  
Go with your friend. Toby nodded at Margot, then returned the warmth of his smile to Rory. Thank you so much for your help and...I will see you on Thursday. He winked and walked away, whistling.  
  
Margot grabbed Rory's arm and started walking her towards the dorm. Okay, what was that?  
  
Rory wrenched her arm free, startled by Margot's attitude. God, could you be a little _less_ polite?!  
  
Margot looked offended. I wasn't rude.  
  
Well, you weren't friendly.  
  
Margot bit her lip. Rory, do you know who that man _is_?  
  
Uh, yeah, Rory said, confused, I just introduced you.  
  
No, I mean, haven't you heard of Tobias Levy before?  
  
Rory looked up at Margot, concerned by the seriousness of her friend's expression.   
  
Margot rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated by Rory's obliviousness. Rory, Tobias Levy is the biggest... she searched for a word, the biggest _radical_ on campus! He was arrested twice last year alone! Once for disturbing the peace and once for handcuffing himself to a radiator outside a dining hall!  
  
Why would he handcuff himself to a radiator?  
  
That's not the point, Rory! Margot sounded exasperated. The point is, do you _really_ want to be associated with someone like him?! I mean, _god_, he's got a criminal record!  
  
Rory felt a resurgence of her annoyance from the previous week. She wasn't a little child. Margot was actually four months younger than she was. So what? Maybe I _want_ to be associated with him!  
  
Margot stopped looking annoyed and started looking alarmed. You're not...involved with him, are you?  
  
Rory said quickly, embarrassed. Was she that obvious, or was Margot's mind just always on sex? No, he's got a girlfriend.  
  
Oh, well, thank goodness for small favors.  
  
I guess so, Rory replied listlessly. She hoped that she had convinced Margot that she wasn't in love with Toby, that she wouldn't be arrested, that her stainless reputation would remain intact.  
  
At least for the time-being.  
  


*

  


  
The cold reflective windows of the April Café provided a perfect mirror, echoing the jade green treetops that lined the Hartford street. Rory paused before reaching the door, studying how she looked. She'd scheduled the haircut and subsequent lunch with her grandmother weeks before, but the decision to take off ten inches of hair instead of the usual two had been spur-of-the-moment.  
  
She was still amazed by how light her head felt, the soft feathery brush of hair against her cheek and neck. She'd gone for a subtly layered bob that fell between her neck and shoulders; it was the shortest haircut she'd had since she was five. It was different, certainly, but it made her look older and she was pretty sure she liked it.  
  
Feeling more confident, Rory walked inside the cafe. A khaki skirt and black t-shirt had seemed like good choices when she left her dorm, but the air-conditioning was going full blast and she could feel herself growing chilled almost immediately.  
  
A discreet looking host appeared, smiling blandly. How many?  
  
I'm meeting someone, actually. Rory hoisted her purse up on her shoulder. My grandmother...?  
  
Of course, she's seated right over there. He pointed to a table on the right, where her grandmother sat, sipping her drink.  
  
Thank you. Rory crossed the café, hoping there wasn't an air vent directly over the table. Hi, Grandma.  
  
Her grandmother stood, kissed her cheek, then stopped and reared back. Your hair!  
  
Rory brushed at it self-consciously. Yeah...do you like it?  
  
Her grandmother beamed on cue. I love it! You look so mature!  
  
  
  
Of course! Her grandmother gestured to the table. Have a seat.  
  
Have you ordered already?  
  
I was waiting for you!  
  
Oh, okay. Rory smiled and turned her attention to her order. She could tell immediately the caliber of the café by the lack of prices on the simply printed menu.  
  
Are you ready to order? A trim blonde waitress had materialized beside their table. She wore a white button down shirt and black dress pants, her blonde hair pulled back into a tidy bun.  
  
Yes, I'll have the caesar salad, and... her grandmother searched for her order, the tortellini with the white sauce. She handed the menu to the waitress without looking at her.  
  
And for the young lady?  
  
I'll just have the cream of chicken soup. Rory smiled shyly at the waitress. The young woman hadn't written anything down, memorizing everything instead.  
  
Would you like something else to drink, or would you like to stick with water?  
  
Rory glanced at her grandmother.  
  
Get the lemonade, she advised.  
  
I'll get a lemonade, thanks.  
  
The waitress swept off to place their order, and Rory settled the cream colored napkin in her lap. This is a nice place, Grandma.  
  
Yes, isn't it? It's so hard to find a nice restaurant where the service is still good. I went to the club with your grandfather last week for dinner and our waiter was _appallingly_ unprofessional. He barely even spoke English!  
  
Rory felt a little uncomfortable listening to her grandmother talk. She'd heard speeches like this before, but never had she thought deeply on the implications. Her grandmother's complaints had always seemed understandable, but for the first time she thought to wonder about the other side of the story. Those waiters were probably doing their best to make a living in a new country, and it was hardly their fault that they didn't speak English. The places her grandparents frequented probably found it cheaper to hire foreigners instead of a WASP-y wait staff. The realization was new to Rory, and she was proud to have thought of it.  
  
Your lemonade. A delicate wineglass was set in front of her, the rim crusted with sugar as a martini glass would be edged in salt.  
  
Isn't it elegant? her grandmother asked, looking pleased.  
  
Rory took an appreciative sip. It was the most perfect lemonade she'd ever tasted.  
  
Her grandmother smiled reminiscently. When your mother was a little girl we had this maid who used to make lemonade like that in the summertime. Of course, she also used to steal the silverware, so I had to let her go.  
  
The matter-of-fact comment soured the lemonade in Rory's mouth. Her pride in her new open-minded thinking melted away as her uncomfortable feeling returned, stronger than before. She wondered what Toby would think if he saw her sitting in this ritzy café, talking of hired help with her grandmother. Self-awareness came like a slap in the face  
  
It was disconcerting, looking at the lifestyle she'd always taken for granted through Toby's eyes. Her foolish good times with her mother seemed very trivial in comparison to a life of political activism. And her grandparents. Oh god, what would he think of her grandparents? Rory was suddenly deeply ashamed of her upbringing, her background. As unpretentious as her childhood had been, there was always that safety net of familial wealth, waiting to catch her. As it was, that money had sent her to high school and college, had helped her mother buy her inn, had spoiled her with elegant dresses and a car and fancy restaurants just like this one.  
  
From this new perspective it was easy for her to see how her grandparents' weath was actually entitled extravagance to most average people. It was bad enough that their recreational travel often cost more than some families' yearly income. But the way her grandmother turned up her nose at foreign waiters and fired and abused struggling maids on a regular basis was pure social injustice.  
  
You're being very quiet. Is something wrong?  
  
I'm just tired. In truth, Rory was shocked by her own train of thought. It was as if she'd always had the factual knowledge, but the emotional and sociological impact was just registering with her for the first time.  
  
How are your classes?  
  
They're good.  
  
I miss that, her grandmother sighed. I just loved my days as a college girl. It was quite a big thing at the time, she confided mischievously, not going to a women's college. Just think! If I'd gone to Bryn Mawr like my mother wanted I'd never have met your grandfather!  
  
That's true.  
  
What's your schedule for tomorrow?  
  
Rory fiddled with the napkin in her lap. She knew not to admit that she was cutting classes all day for the protest. I have Chaucer in the late morning, a study group for Human Societies during lunch, and Calculus at four.  
  
Oh fun!  
  
Her grandmother seemed prepared to interrogate her further, so Rory was relieved when the waitress arrived again, bearing their plates on her arms. She dug into her soup, but it didn't taste as good as she'd imagined that it would. Her serene lunch with her grandmother was irrevocably tainted by these new realizations that clustered in the corners of her mind, reminding her that there were probably some immigrant workers sweating in the kitchens to wash the dishes, underpaid and overworked.  
  
This is so exciting, seeing you twice in one month! If only your mother could have come.  
  
Well, the inn keeps her pretty busy these days.  
  
Yes, so I gather.  
  
Rory reached for the sleek glass pepper mill and focused on her soup. After her first month at college her mother had pleaded to reduce the Friday night dinners from weekly to monthly, claiming that the inn took up too much of her time. It had actually been a cover for Rory, who had found the weekly commute exhausting but had felt unable to renege on her bargain. Unfortunately, her mother and the new inn had taken the brunt of her grandmother's disappointed resentment.  
  
Do you know what your plans are for the summer?  
  
Rory wondered how her grandmother managed to look completely poised and clean even while eating messy salad and pasta. Um, I'm not sure yet. Mom mentioned something about a road trip down south.  
  
Her grandmother sniffed. I would have thought that that boyfriend of hers would have tamed Lorelai's irresponsible wanderlust.  
  
Rory smiled. I think Mom's actually trying to teach Luke to be more relaxed.  
  
Poor man. Anyway, if you're not gone all summer, your grandfather and I were hoping you might come join us on Martha's Vineyard for a week or two. It's beautiful in August, as long as you avoid the tourists.  
  
Mom and Luke are invited too?  
  
If they want to come.  
  
Well, I'd love to. Rory smiled, feeling a little bit better. Sure, her grandparents were wealthy, but they were incredibly generous as well. No cost was too much if it would help her or her mother. They participated in numerous charities, and they were dedicated to making life lovely and enjoyable for the ones they loved. And her grandfather worked very hard, first at his old job, and then building his brand new business. So what if they enjoyed a little luxury?  
  
The rationality of the thought comforted her through the rest of lunch, where she finished off the meal by splitting a slice of chocolate raspberry torte with her grandmother, and all the way back to campus. It was only once she was sitting in her room, trying to finish another chapter of reading for the Chaucer class she wouldn't attend the next day, that the uneasy feeling of privileged guilt returned.  
  


*

  


  
At six the next morning Rory entered the Voice of Liberty room, wearing her most comfortable shoes and carrying two trays of coffee. She set the coffee down on a t-shirt box nearby, and brushed self-consciously at her shorter hair. It was too short for real braids now, so she'd settled for stubby pigtails.  
  
Hey, Rory. J.J. breezed past, her long black hair knotted up under a red cowboy bandana. You can grab a t-shirt if you want; we're starting pretty soon, hopefully.  
  
Rory looked down at the box and remembered the coffee. Oh, here, this is for you.  
  
J.J. turned, her eyes darting coldly to the cup in Rory's hand. she asked doubtfully.  
  
Rory knew instantly that she'd done something wrong, but she wasn't sure what. Do you not like Starbucks? she asked, feeling badly. I know some people think it's too strong but I didn't think to ask—  
  
It's not how it tastes, J.J. said.  
  
What's the problem then? Rory asked, genuinely confused.  
  
The problem? The problem is that _Starbucks_ —J.J. said the name like a curse— is a ridiculously overpriced, self-aggrandizing corporation that makes its money with the over-privileged psuedo-intellectual—  
  
Just say thank you, J.J.! Toby had appeared behind J.J. and placed his hands restrainingly on her shoulders. Take a deep breath and stop ripping into Rory. She was trying to be nice.  
  
J.J. looked down, then smiled sheepishly and wiped a strand of hair from her face. Sorry Rory, nothing personal.  
  
Good girl. Toby squeezed her shoulders and smiled at Rory. Is one of these for me?  
  
If you want it, Rory said, now terribly self-conscious of her mistake.  
  
I'd love it, thank you. He grabbed two from the tray, and handed one to J.J. When she opened her mouth to protest he cut her off. You were just complaining that you needed coffee, so don't give me this reverse-snobbery bullshit.  
  
J.J. took the cup meekly. Thank you, Rory.  
  
Oh, it wasn't a problem. Rory really wanted to slide through the floor. Toby gave her a chin-up smile and wink, then wandered off to check something with Libby by the door. Rory felt a tiny bit better.  
  
I'm really sorry, J.J. said again, going to work opening the box. I'm just tired, and stressed about today. I didn't mean to take it out on you.  
  
It's no big deal. Rory moved the trays to a different box and helped J.J. rip open the one with which she was struggling. She tried to make a joke to ease the slight tension that still lingered. I'll definitely think twice about getting Starbucks again, though.  
  
Good. I can die happy. J.J. grinned wryly. Rory remembered what Toby had said about her being pushy but harmless. What size are you?  
  
Medium, I guess. J.J. offered Rory one of the t-shirts and grabbed one for herself as well. It had been decided at the Sunday meeting that a less offensive slogan was in order, so the t-shirt now read _Make the future brighter starting tomorrow morning: support the Morning After Pill_. Rory pulled off her sweatshirt jacket and yanked the t-shirt on over her tank-top.  
  
Within the next few minutes the room was bustling with people getting their t-shirts, claiming signs, and receiving instructions. Rory, in charge of distributing shirts, saw her friend Judith across the room and waved. Toby seemed to be everywhere at once, answering questions, giving directions, joking one minute, dead serious the next. In no time at all, an hour had passed, and he was calling for attention. It took an earsplitting whistle from J.J. to shut everyone up.  
  
Okay, I'm pretty sure we're all here, Toby announced. So if everyone could finish up what they're doing and start moving outside, that would be great. Once everyone's ready, we'll march over to the clinic together. The room disintegrated into noise once more, and Toby wended his way towards Rory.  
  
Might I have a t-shirt?  
  
Rory handed one over and pretended not to watch while he stripped off his shirt and changed. He was very skinny, and she found herself strangely affected by the visibility of his ribs and collarbone, but muscles were visible along the hard lines of his chest and arms.  
  
J.J. appeared as he was struggling to pull the new t-shirt over his head. She reached out a hand to tickle him, but he apparently anticipated it and swatted her hand away. Andy's going to grab a box of t-shirts to bring with us, but otherwise everyone's ready, she told him. It was true; the room was emptying out.  
  
Let's go, Rory, he said, clapping his hands, we're shipping out.  
  
Outside, Rory was shocked to see how many people had amassed on the lawn, most wearing rust-red t-shirts and many carrying signs. Toby's appearance must have been some unspoken signal, because everyone started walking toward the clinic when he emerged. Unlike the grim progress Rory had imagined, people were chatting amongst themselves quite cheerfully, having fun. She was a little overwhelmed among hordes of complete strangers. It seemed easiest to stay near Toby and J.J.  
  
So, J.J., Toby said teasingly as they walked, as if the idea had just occured to him, are you _pumped_?  
  
Her voice was a warning. Rory watched curiously as Toby winked and pressed on, playing to Rory as an audience.  
  
Maybe you want to make up a group _cheer_ for us?  
  
Shut _up_! J.J. wailed, hitting him on the shoulder.  
  
What do you think, Rory? he asked, ignoring her.  
  
Rory wasn't quite sure what to make of this flirtatious teasing. I don't know.  
  
Toby faked a look of surprise. What, you mean J.J. never told you how she was a _cheerleader_ for eight years?!  
  
I hate you! J.J. cried, jumping onto Toby's back and playfully wrapping her arm around his neck.  
  
It's a weird image, I'll admit, he said calmly to Rory, pretending not to notice J.J. half strangling him. But when you think about it, can't you just see her with pom-pons, kicking her leg and yelling Go team!'? He made a strangled sound that was half laughter, half J.J. choking him.  
  
I started in high school when I didn't know any better! J.J. explained hurriedly to Rory, as if desperate to defend her image. And I got a scholarship here if I continued to cheer, so I did! But I'm really a dancer— she released one arm from Toby's neck to start playfully hitting his head — not some over-sexed, short-skirted slut! Not that cheerleaders are that way, she added quickly, dropping off Toby's back. He kept walking casually as if she'd never been there in the first place. They're _real_ athletes.  
  
Keep telling yourself that, Toby said, an impish grin playing at the corner of his mouth.  
  
I hate you, J.J. said matter-of-factly. He smiled, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.  
  
Even though they'd been addressing their comments to her, the mock-spat had left Rory feeling completely alone. She'd always envied the ease of girls like J.J., who could give as good as they got when it came to teasing and still manage to emerge seeming cute and lovable. Thinking that Toby and J.J. looked as though they should be left alone, arms around each other's waists and talking quietly, Rory dropped back a little. She wished being part of the Voice of Liberty wasn't such a roller-coaster for her emotions. It seemed every thrill was followed with a disappointment that made her feel as though she'd left her stomach behind.  
  
They reached the clinic soon after, and the energy in the group changed subtly. There was a ripple of adrenaline-fed excitement among the crowd, as t-shirts were straightened and signs raised upright. A low, purposeful buzz of conversation filled the air, fed by the tension of anticipation. Rory wrapped her arms around herself, it was chilly, and moved a little closer to a group of young women nearby.  
  
The wait seemed to go on forever, but it was only a few minutes later that one of the clinic's receptionists unlocked the door. She had clearly been briefed on the group and was pointedly ignoring them, but that didn't stop the crowd. Rory had the curious sensation of being in a wave crashing on the shore as the group moved forward purposefully, their shouts swelling in a war cry of mingled voices. People shook their signs and yelled, eyes fixed on the clinic's modest door with a single-mindedness of intent.  
  
The grey skies opened overhead, releasing a cold sprinkling of raindrops on the morning. Rory normally would have balked at getting wet, but when no one around her reacted she pushed aside the wet and cold and concentrated on the task at hand. A strange feeling was swelling inside her, making her overly aware of the blood pounding in the narrow points of her body, her neck and wrists. She felt very aware of the soggy ground beneath her feet and how firmly attached to it she was, of the warm solid presence of her own body. The dull throbbing of her own heartbeat in her ears muted the noise and meant that it was quite awhile before she realized that she was shouting too, her voice one with the crowd.  
  


*


End file.
